Almost Certain
by Flashing The Floods
Summary: It could be your big break, or you could be in for another heartbreak. Whatever way you look at it (and you're looking at it from all ways) your ex's offer has given you a lot to think about.


** Author's Note: Provided Castiel was genuinely in love with Debrah, which as far as I'm concerned isn't a certainty, I probably made it deeper and sappier than it actually is. Mentions of sexual content, but I don't think enough to call for an M rating. Yet another one of my crappy oneshots. **

She looks different than she did before. You lean back casually against the wall like you don't care, reflecting on this as you watch her laugh with her friends. Her laugh is high and full of life, and they're all grouped around her with girlish grins on their faces and upbeat chatter passing from mouth to mouth. As though nothing has changed. And then it just hits you, like a ton of bricks they would say. All in all, nothing _has_ changed.

Nothing but her appearance. She used to be more subtle in what she wore. Never the prude, no. Her skin-tight jeans had never left anything up to imagination about the the lithe legs and pert, little behind hidden underneath them. Her neckline had never been high enough to keep prying eyes away from the ample breasts you've rolled your tongue over a number of times. But those clothes were always plainer than the embellished laces and eye-catching color schemes she sports now.

And that's where the changes end. She's still the same old Debrah, through and through. Her eyes still flash with lively ambition and she still carries herself with a sensual grace you find yourself drawn to, though you vainly wish you weren't. Your relationship with her has changed, but even the difference in that is so minute you can't help but think it doesn't matter. Her lips nearly touched yours backstage last night, when you were still rippling with adrenaline after the concert and she approached you.

Seemingly manifested from thin air, she sauntered up to you with a sparkle in her eyes and a sultry greeting on her tongue. She studied your (courtesy of Rosalya) peculiar outfit with a flirtatious trill of playful compliments and touched your shoulder. She murmured a proposition in your ear with the voice of an angel and the gaze of a siren. You didn't answer her, not exactly. You were still stumbling over the shock of her presence and could scarcely form a coherent opinion.

She could have kissed you then. You would have let her kiss you then, because she was leaning real close and her gentle hands were on your chest, perhaps even poised to rip your heart out of it again, and for the life of you, you didn't know why! So you followed her out and let her walk you home, bailing on Lynn to discuss more of this sudden proposition in the crisp, night air and hope it would clear your spinning head.

After a night of discussion and things still not making as much sense as you hoped they would, you now stand against the wall and lay your eyes on her radiant, gleeful form. You watch her with her friends and mull over your choices, brain overflowing and heart thudding painfully. This could be the chance of a lifetime. Her dainty hand could lead you to fame, wealth, security, happiness. This could be your big break. Opportunity isn't just knocking on your door, it's breaking into your fucking house.

And what real reason do you have to turn it down? School? Ha, that's a laugh. As if. You suck at school, as that blonde little prick never fails to remind you whenever the two of you are put into a situation where interaction is inevitable. And papers in your mailbox never fail to remind you either, with their printed threats of suspension, expulsion, or notices of dropping credits. Your parents aren't a reason to stick around. The last time you saw them was six months ago and the last you heard of them was a check in the mail that meant you could go get yourself some food that didn't come out of Lysander's fridge or a grease-stained bag.

Debrah herself is a reason to stay, ironic as that is. The one providing you with this chance is also the biggest reason you shouldn't take it. She is your ex-girlfriend, simple enough. But as simple as it should be, as simple as it really is when it's laid out in front of your face, it doesn't feel simple at all. You loved her. You loved her, you loved her, you loved her. You remember her warm body nestling close to yours on the futon in the middle of the night, the first night that you two had ever laid together in a way that was not platonic. The first night you'd ever laid with _anyone_ intimately.

You remember her ginger fingertips tracing over your chest as you tenderly stroked her back in a routine that seemed to soothe her as you stayed up and talked the night away until early morning and fell asleep in each others arms. You remember her long chestnut swirls braided up and styled into a slightly spiky bun at that cheesy school dance. You remember that bun being the only reason why you went to the damn thing, all stiff and suffocating in some cheap tux. You remember the one-month anniversary rings you bought and wore. You remember before all that, the first kiss you two shared behind some music store that closed down last year and took a little chunk of your sentiments with it. Her lips were so soft that night…

And then she left you. She left to start a career and live her dream, and you could not, would not, can not, and will not hold it against her. She left you to make her goal a reality and you did not fight her on it. You let her go because that was best for her. That dream could make her happier than you ever could and you would get over it for her sake, no matter how deep the ache of her absence drove into your soul. But other than that ache, that horrible ache that refused to heal for the longest time, there was another dull, desensitizing pain. This one, you almost _could_ hold against her. If the shoe had been on the other foot, your situations reversed, you wouldn't have picked the career. You may tell yourself you would, but deep down you know it's a pitiful lie. You would have picked her. You would have picked her a million times over.

With all that is behind you two, how can you maintain a business relationship with her? After loving her, how can you you just be her guitar player? How will you be able to talk to her as any other person, pretend nothing happened, and turn away when she meets other guys on tour? How can she do the same when you meet other girls? That sounds awkward and miserable. Putting each other in those kinds of positions…How can you do that? It doesn't sound right to you, doesn't sit while with your stomach. But there's not a possibility that you'll get back together, is there?

As soon as that consideration pops in your mind, more frustration and confusion weigh down on you. If Debrah offered to get back together, would you accept? Would you want to be with her again? You don't know…You think not, but you're still watching her, damn it. But…But you also think you're over her. You definitely were until last night, anyway. In fact, you've been looking at someone else for awhile now. Lynn. Sweet, ditzy, Lynn. She's nothing like Debrah at all. But when she graces you with her smile, it sticks with you. She's silly, that girl. Always doing nutty shit, to put it frankly. But she's cute and she's fun, and she's made you feel a lot warmer than you have in awhile. Crap. She's another reason you should stay.

All this thinking and debating and brooding has got you pretty keyed up. Stress is eating on your nerves and you could really, really use a cigarette right now. Something about the hot ash settling in your lungs always manages to calm you down, if only a little, and your hand instinctively reaches to dig a pack out of your pocket. A pack that you internally cringe as you realize isn't there, because this morning you traded in your usual attire for what you used to wear back when Debrah was yours. She mentioned to you last night how much she missed it, your jacket especially. She always liked to touch that.

Which makes you feel even stupider for putting it on, because you realize the last thing you want is for her to touch you. Her touch used to be a clement salve that you longed for. Now it's a just the frigid ghost of a painful memory and you dread it. Grinding your teeth and trying to keep up with all your conflicting thoughts, you don't even notice when your best friend stalks over and puts a hand on your shoulder. For one highly unpleasant instant, you think it's her and you're not ready to talk about the offer yet. But Lysander interrupts you before you can bite your tongue.

"Castiel, what are you wearing? That's unhealthy." He's staring at you with a wary, worried glint in his unusual eyes and any other time it might have made you feel a little bit better to have someone care, maybe even someone to get a third opinion from. But now it's just annoying. "What? I used to dress like this all the time."

"That's the point. You're doing it just for Debrah, aren't you?"

"Well yeah, but not why you think..." You're not ready to tell him about her offer. You haven't thought it through enough yet. You haven't fully calculated the pros and cons against each other and it was all thrust upon you so quickly. Besides, you already know where Lysander would stand on it if you did let it slip. He'd tell you to stay, because he doesn't trust her, he never has trusted her. He trusts Debrah about as much as you're supposed to trust those ads on the internet that inform you with epilepsy-unfriendly flashing messages that you've won a thousand dollars, or a new iPad. And then that thought surges forward another point you haven't yet considered, the point that your chance could flop. You can't trust your big break to work out.

It could fail for and leave you face down in the dirt of hollow promises. And then what? "Forget it, you can't understand." You shrug your friend's touch off and head out to the courtyard to get some air. Fresh air doesn't work as well to calm you as cigarette smoke. It's much too thin and insubstantial in comparison. But it's all you've got to work with right now, so you inhale it in greedily and take a moment before diving back into assessing your next move in the game of life.


End file.
